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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24194191">Tragic Lover Shuffle</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smallswritesstuff/pseuds/Smallswritesstuff'>Smallswritesstuff</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Umbrella Academy (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Character Death, Real!Delores, Roleswap</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-03 01:07:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,646</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24194191</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smallswritesstuff/pseuds/Smallswritesstuff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Three one-shots in a whack AU where the three Tragic Love Interests of TUA all shift over one. Delores is a love lost in another time and found again in the present, Dave is a cop, and Eudora is not entirely human. Based on this shitpost I had one time: https://mychemicalxmen.tumblr.com/post/617166871331045376/shitty-au-8-delores-is-a-real-woman-a-kind#notes</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Delores</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Oops, Age Made Things Complicated!</p><p>The Five/Delores depicted here is purely platonic and pretty far off canon, but it was just something I wanted to experiment with.</p><p>Thanks for reading this impulsively-written mess! I don't currently have the other two chapters written, but I have Plans for whenever I can come back to this.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Five took a final scan of the dining room and his five utterly dumbfounded siblings. Five twenty-somethings that seemed just as emotionally stunted as Vanya’s book reported, too focused on their own self-destruction to even begin to be of any use in stopping an apocalypse.<br/><br/>Of the lot, Vanya seemed the most likely to actually listen. But that didn’t necessarily mean she was going to believe him. Judging by the lost look in her eyes, Five could tell he wasn’t going to get much of anywhere confiding in her.<br/><br/>Oh well, it was worth a shot.<br/><br/>It saddened Five slightly that all of his siblings were completely useless. But that didn’t matter. He had another plan.<br/><br/>“I’m taking the car,” he announced. Then, he reconsidered. “Actually, how late are the buses running?”<br/><br/>“Um.” Luther stammered dumbly. “Late.”<br/><br/>Five took a final bite of his peanut butter and marshmallow sandwich, saluted the group, and stepped into a bright blue glow, disappearing just as abruptly as he’d arrived.<br/><br/><br/><strong>...<br/></strong><br/><br/>He knew the name of the neighborhood. Knew the names of the streets. He’d made the long trek between the wreckage of her apartment complex and the Academy on foot countless times. But it was a completely foreign path when covered in greenery, populated by people walking drowsily home from various dinners and dates, and lit up by a string of buzzing lamp posts. The world was alive; and yet, in a way, it was asleep. Blissfully unaware of the catastrophes currently slated.<br/><br/>Gimblestone was a two-hour drive away. In the final few minutes, Five gripped hard on the empty cardboard cup from Griddy’s in his hand.<br/><br/>It was nearly three by the time he walked up the concrete ramp to her door. He remembered the endless stories of the two other girls who lived here. Friends from college in the UK and, apparently, the worst roommates on the planet. He remembered how hard she’d laughed, recounting petty argument after petty argument over a shared bottle of Chardonnay in the wasteland.<br/><br/>There wasn’t time now to reminisce. And as strangely humorous as it would be to finally meet the demons he’d heard so much about, he prayed it wouldn’t be either of them answering the door. Time was of the essence.<br/><br/>Five rang the doorbell.<br/><br/>Nearly a minute of soft movement sounds passed as someone was chosen to answer. Five didn’t think he breathed the whole time.<br/><br/>Luckily, Delores was the one who opened the door.<br/><br/>It was her. It was really her. Just a hair under thirty again, too.</p><p>She was beautiful.</p><p><em>Beautiful</em>.</p><p>She’d thrown a white and black polka-dotted robe over a tank top and sweatpants. Her buzzcut caught the light of a lamp down the wall behind her, casting a tiny golden halo around her head. She leaned on the door frame and on the silver cane in her hand. <br/><br/><br/><br/><em>And the two of them looked just like they did on that first day, when a bright woman in a self-modified wheelchair had first encountered a scrappy young boy in a school uniform who was, as she would later remark, “Too smart for his own good”. Only now, he was even smarter. And what good that did him. <br/></em></p><p><em>It would be easy for their friendship to transcend age, given they were in an place where time was of little importance.<br/><br/></em><em>When they had first locked eyes over a pile of ruins, he had shouted and fumbled for the rifle in his little red wagon. He had pulled it to his face in messy terror, hands trembling. She had thrown her hands out towards him, and a glimmering teal forcefield had suddenly materialized around her. <br/><br/></em><em>Holy shit. <br/><br/></em><em>Her walls were strong - bulletproof, bomb-proof, and apocalypse-proof, as Five would later understand - but they shook ever so slightly with her hands and the air in her lungs. <br/><br/></em><em>Five had swallowed. Dropped his gun. Raised his arms. <br/><br/></em><em>Delores hadn’t let down her wall.<br/><br/></em><em>Five had to try to send some sort of message. He hadn’t spoken to a soul in a year. He had ached to call out, to cry, to let her know, “I’m just like you.” But he had no clue how. </em> <br/><br/><em>He had settled for waving a little “It’s okay” and stepping into a flash of blue, spatial-jumping four feet to the right. <br/><br/></em><em>Delores still hadn’t let down her wall. She wouldn’t, for a very, very, very long time. But after a moment, she’d taken down one of her hands and begun to wheel herself over.<br/><br/><br/><br/></em>But here, in 2019, the tiredness in her eyes melted into confusion. Then, to poorly-concealed panic.<br/><br/>“Hello,” She started, tense. Her accent was the poshest he’d ever remembered it. Must have worn off over the years. “Are you... lost?”<br/><br/>“No,” He answered shortly, “I’m not. I need to speak with you about some pressing matters.”<br/><br/>“I see. Well, it’s the middle of the night, kiddo. Do your mother and father know where you are?”<br/><br/>“Don’t know, don’t care.” He smiled humorously. “You know who my father is, anyway, don’t you?”<br/><br/>Delores froze up for a second.<br/><br/>“Right, the jacket, you’re part of that, uh…” A pause that was a little too staged. “... Umbrella, School, thing. Right? I thought… I thought they were all, you know. Older now. Or something.”<br/><br/>“Supposed to be twenty-nine and a half, pretty close to the day,” Five sighed pointedly.<br/><br/>“Huh,” Delores replied simply. “Well… how can I help you? Do you need to make a call? Or do you need a ride? I have some cash for a cab.”<br/><br/>“That won’t be necessary.” He tried hard not to fold. Tried not to absolutely crumble at the reminder of Delores’s compassionate nature. Every endearing moment of neuroticism. All of her capacity to care.<br/><br/>God, he hadn’t come to expect that warmth from anybody since then. He’d forgotten there could be so much good in a single heart. Of course, later in their friendship, all that tenderness would become buried by a thick layer of snark and skepticism. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t still there.<br/><br/><em>Just rip it off like a Band-Aid, Number Five, you emotionally constipated son of a bitch. <br/><br/></em>“I’m here to ask you to help me stop the apocalypse.”<br/><br/>Delores furrowed her brow. Five kept going before she could interrupt.<br/><br/>“I’m the Number Five Hargreeves who disappeared without a trace in 2002. I made it to the future. April 1st of this year. And everything was destroyed. Except you. And me.”<br/><br/>Delores tried to laugh. “Alright, alright, this is like some sort of promotional thing, right? Trying to reboot the brand? Some ‘Jejune Institute’ situation?”<br/><br/>“Please hear me out. I know it’s a lot to take in. We don’t have much time.”<br/><br/>“Okay, I’m listening. Tell me what the Umbrella School needs me to do.”<br/><br/>“<em>Delores </em> .”<br/><br/>Delores stood a little straighter. “How the hell do you know my name?”<br/><br/>“I know your name because <em> we met. </em> We were partners in survival. In the apocalypse.”<br/><br/>“You really expect me to believe that’s all true?”<br/><br/>“I <em> expect </em> you to stop calling it the goddamn Umbrella School because you <em> know </em> what it’s called. You <em> know </em> it’s the Umbrella Academy. You have done <em> plenty </em> of research on the goings-on in that creepy old mansion two hours south of here. You have <em> Extra Ordinary </em>by Vanya Hargreeves on your nightstand right now, and you’ve been re-reading it for the third time every night this week with a mug of passion fruit tea.”<br/><br/>Delores shrank, unsure how to respond. Five went on, frustration rising.<br/><br/>“So, yeah. If you can buy into super-powered children who can <em> actually </em> teleport, <em> actually </em> alter reality, and <em> actually </em> talk to the dead, I think you can buy into the fact that I’ve seen the end of times, and you’re my only hope for stopping it.”<br/><br/>“Why me?” She demanded, her voice strained. “How could I have survived?” The rawness in her tone did nothing to disguise the tears welling up in her. She couldn’t play it cool anymore.<br/><br/>“You’re one of the forty-three.”<br/><br/>“I’m not,” She shot back.<br/><br/>“Yes, you are! You’ve been terrified of admitting it. Now, and your whole life. But you still fixate on those pesky what-ifs.”<br/><br/>“Look, I’m sorry about what happened to you. I’m sorry about all those kids who got locked up like animals and tortured into success. You have my pity. I’m glad that asshole is in the ground. But I am <em> not </em> one of you.”<br/><br/>“You’re not?”<br/><br/>“I’m not!”<br/><br/>Five took a few steps back.<br/><br/>“What are you doing?” She asked.<br/><br/>Five pulled a revolver out of his belt and aimed at her head.<br/><br/>Delores flinched back and raised her hand.<br/><br/>A flash of teal.<br/><br/>A beat passed. Delores opened her eyes. Through the translucence of the shield, she saw the little boy in the blazer raise his gun to his ear and pull the trigger. The gun clicked hollowly, the barrel empty.<br/><br/>Five saw the storm of fear in her eyes. Maybe it was fear of accepting what she was, but maybe it was simply fear of him.<br/><br/><em>His</em> Delores would certainly fear the man he'd become.<br/><br/>Regret and guilt churned his stomach. He tucked the gun away.<br/><br/>“I’m sorry,” he wheezed weakly. “I just really need your help. I’m…” He lowered his eyes and turned away. “I’m sorry.”<br/><br/>He hurried down the ramp and off to the sidewalk to find a place to breathe.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>...</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>In the apocalypse, they had gotten her when her guard was down.<br/><br/>Five had no clue who <em> They </em> were at the time, but he now has one pretty strong suspicion, and he now understands just how sloppy they must’ve been.<br/><br/><br/>“Hey, Dee!”<br/><br/><br/>It was twenty years into their time together.<br/><br/><br/>“I just found the fourth issue, check it out!”<br/><br/><br/>He and Delores had been having one of their better days, scavenging another library, somewhere far from either of their shared home bases.<br/><br/><br/>“Dee?”<br/><br/><br/>She was somewhere beyond a mound of collapsed bookcases. He hadn’t heard the bullet crack through the air.<br/><br/><br/>“You okay? You trapped in another sappy romance over there?”<br/><br/><br/>Apparently, <em> They </em>had already been watching him.<br/><br/><br/>“Oh my God.”<br/><br/><br/><em>They </em>were keeping an eye on both of them, really. But there was only one job opening, and how could you compete with the prospect of an assassin who could be his own briefcase?<br/><br/><br/>“Shit. Shit. <em>Shit!”</em><br/><br/><br/>Apparently, <em> They </em> needed some insurance. <em> They </em> had seen his ability to work with a partner through life-and-death scenarios, which earned him fairly high marks.<br/><br/><br/>“Delores. Hey. Breathe. Breathe. Look at me. Where’s the wound? Show me.”<br/><br/><br/>But they needed to ensure his survival skills held up when he was flying solo.<br/><br/><br/>“Hey. Hey! <em>Look at me</em>, God dammit!”<br/><br/><br/>When the Handler would appear to him decades later, he would point his rifle her way with studied accuracy.<br/><br/><br/>“Please, Delores. Stay. Stay with me.”<br/><br/><br/>He would scream. Tears would tumble from his blood-red face. He would demand one good reason that he shouldn’t fire at the cool and calm CEO responsible for the death of the woman he loved like a sister, like a soul-twin, like his truest friend in the universe.<br/><br/><br/>The Handler would weave words around into a beautiful tapestry of bullshit. She would find a way to gain his allegiance.<br/><br/><br/>But when he finally shook her hand, he knew he’d only be biding his time.<br/><br/><br/></p><p>Until he could save the world.</p><p>Until he could save his family.</p><p>Until he could save <em> her </em>.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>...</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Five sat on a bench just a few blocks down with his head in his hands. It was nearly 3:30. Luther would probably go looking for him if he wasn’t back by sunrise.<br/><br/>Five was a genius and pragmatist. He was also a total idiot.<br/><br/>He might have very well ruined everything. The Delores in that apartment wasn’t <em> his </em>Delores. Nor was it a Delores that he thought would ever want to speak to him again. <br/><br/>And on top of that, he might’ve just burned a major bridge to solving the mystery of the One-Eyed Man.<br/><br/>He took the glass eye from his pocket and rolled it between his fingers, trying to calculate his next move. He would go to Meritech in the morning. Simple enough. But if that turned out to be a dead end, he’d be back at square one.<br/><br/>He almost had a mind to throw the eye against the asphalt road in front of him and watch it shatter into a million pieces.<br/><br/>Then, he heard the gentle creak of wheels on the sidewalk beside him. He turned and saw Delores, fully dressed. She wore the same leather jacket she was wearing when they’d first met. The one with little flowers on the sleeves, sewn with sequins.<br/><br/><br/><br/>“April 1st,” She said.<br/><br/>“Yeah,” Five confirmed.<br/><br/>Delores nodded. She then tilted her head.<br/><br/>“And what was that phrase you used? ‘Partners in survival’?”<br/><br/>“Something like that,” he replied, smiling a little. He looked down. “Something more like ‘best friends’, if I’m honest.”<br/><br/>Delores nodded again and thought for a moment.<br/><br/>“Okay,” She said.<br/><br/>Five glanced back up. “‘Okay’?”<br/><br/>“Well, what’s the plan?”<br/><br/>“You really believe me?” Five asked.<br/><br/>“Yep,” Delores answered.<br/><br/>“And you want to come?<br/><br/>Delores shrugged with bravery. “I think it’s about time I give this whole ‘superhero’ thing a try. How hard could it be?”<br/><br/>Five somehow found his grin widening. He shook his head.<br/><br/>“<em>So,</em>” Delores prompted again, “What’s the plan?”<br/><br/>Five rolled the eyeball between his fingers once more.<br/><br/><br/>“Do you think you could pass as my mom? Just for some low-level espionage.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Dave</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Klaus fixed his eyes on the clock on the wall just beyond his iron bars. There wasn’t much else to study in this empty room. The cell at the police department building was familiar. <em> Very </em>familiar. And while that familiarity erased any anxiety that any other convict might experience in this room, it just made Klaus’s stay so <em> boring</em>.<br/><br/>He jumped in his seat at the sound of the door being unlocked. A police detective in a denim jacket stepped in and closed the door behind him. He glanced at Klaus through the bars with a weary expression.<br/><br/>“Jesus Christ,” he sighed.<br/><br/>“Nah,” Klaus said, standing and lazily making his way to the front of the cell. “Just me!” He smiled and presented his HELLO hand. “Hey, Dave.”<br/><br/>“Come on, Klaus. This time it was shoplifting antiques, right?”<br/><br/>“Oh, probably. Who has time to go through all the fussy details?” Klaus shrugged.<br/><br/>“I do,” Dave answered, lifting the papers in his hand. “That’s… literally part of my job today. Processing whatever bullshit you’re up to out there.”<br/><br/>Klaus wrapped his hands around the bars and leaned in towards Dave. “Well, boo-hoo, our men and women in law enforcement work so hard. Blue lives forever. God bless America. Et cetera, et cetera.”<br/><br/>Dave squinted. “Are you high?”<br/><br/>Klaus counted the hours since his last hit. “I mean, not currently. I don’t think.”<br/><br/>Dave wasn’t amused. “God dammit, Klaus. God <em> dammit</em>.”<br/><br/>He threw the stack of papers down onto the table by the door.<br/><br/>“Alright, there’s no need to—”<br/><br/>“Shut up,” Dave snapped. “Please, for once, just shut up. I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to keep seeing you here. Have you seen your file lately?”<br/><br/>“No, Dave,” Klaus answered, deadpan. “I haven’t seen my file lately.”<br/><br/>Dave slammed his hand against the table. “It’s a Goddamn novel.”<br/><br/>"Yeah? So?”<br/><br/>“What do you mean, ‘so’?”<br/><br/>“I'm sorry, I don’t understand how you see my phenomenal journey of self-annihilation as some kind of personal attack.” Klaus said. “Not everything’s about you, you know.”<br/><br/>Dave shook his head incredulously. “You know how many strings you’ve made me pull around here through the years? You gotta understand you’re not above the laws of ordinary people.”<br/><br/>Klaus opened his mouth to speak, but Dave kept going.<br/><br/>“And the drugs could get you into serious shit. I was stupid enough to turn a blind eye to it because you begged me to, but I know it’s still going on. I just don’t know how much you’re carrying, or if you’re dealing, or even what class of stuff you’re using these days, and how likely I am to get a call that you’re dead in a Walmart at two in the afternoon.”<br/><br/>The questions, the yelling, the anger, they were all fine. But for some reason, it always stung Klaus to catch a glimpse beyond that and hear that Dave cared. Even the smallest amount. Even the Please-Don’t-OD-In-A-Big-Box-Store bare minimum sat funny in his chest.<br/><br/>“And I mean, Christ. You should probably be serving <em> major </em> time,” Dave went on. “There’s only so long I can look the other way.”<br/><br/>Klaus fidgeted with one of his necklaces, gently pushing the charm back and forth on its chain. “And to think,” he mused, “looking at me used to be one of your favorite things to do.”<br/><br/>It was one of the snarkier Klaus-isms, meant to be brushed aside with an eyeroll or a blatant subject shift or someone telling him to can it. Instead, it just made some tension fell out of Dave’s body.<br/><br/>“What are you doing, Klaus?” He asked. “With everything. Your life.”<br/><br/>Klaus smiled a strange little smile. The question didn’t really have an answer. Dave kind of knew that when he asked, too.<br/><br/>“I came in here to tell you that next time you get into trouble, I’m not gonna be there to make sure they go easy on you.”<br/><br/>“Oh, you won’t be my knight in shining armor anymore? Rescuing me from peril and fudging breathalyzer results?”<br/><br/>“I meant it,” Dave said sternly. “I can’t keep doing this. You’re on your own.”<br/><br/>“Fine,” Klaus snarled. "All Cops Are Bitches.”<br/><br/>Yeah, no, it didn’t seem like he was taking any of this seriously. Maybe he was, but he simply preferred to make it all feel like a game instead. In five months of casual rendezvous and another five of splitting a cramped apartment, Dave had certainly picked up on that tendency of his.<br/><br/>“You’re an idiot,” Dave grumbled.<br/><br/>“Asshole,” Klaus fired back. “You weren’t always like this, you know.”<br/><br/>“I was gonna graduate from police academy at some point.”<br/><br/>“You didn’t have to be such an <em> asshole </em> about it. You don’t have any idea what I’m trying to get through over here.”<br/><br/>“You know what? I do,” Dave countered. “And it’s not an excuse. Grow up.”<br/><br/>Klaus did <em> not </em> want to be talked to about growing up. Not with how his trainwreck of a childhood went down. But he wasn’t going to take that road. Historically, he never did.<br/><br/>“Ass. Hole.” He bit.<br/><br/>Dave took a couple steps closer and tapped a knuckle on the bars. “Criminal,” he reminded.<br/><br/>The fire in Klaus’s expression dimmed. He just searched the officer, for a moment. When the question came out, it was almost approximating earnest.<br/><br/>“What happened to us, Dave?”<br/><br/>Dave winced a bit. “Nothing happened,” he murmured. “It was a bad idea that went too far.”<br/><br/>“Didn’t seem like too bad of an idea that night at the club,” Klaus recalled, “when some adorable blonde Adonis was desperately trying to make small talk over the music.”<br/><br/>“Well, maybe it was only the blonde Adonis’s second or third time at a real club.”<br/><br/>“And maybe he made incredible pancakes the next morning.”<br/><br/>“No. Eggs,” Dave corrected.<br/><br/>“<em>Right</em>. Absolutely horrible eggs,” Klaus remembered.<br/><br/>"I’d like to think I made up for my cooking capabilities in other ways.”<br/><br/>“Oh, I guess<em>, </em>” Klaus teased. “Nice place. Cute dog. Magnificent singing voice.”<br/><br/>Dave raised an eyebrow. “That all?” he challenged.<br/><br/>“I mean, not <em> all</em>,” Klaus replied. “But most of it, anyway.”<br/><br/>A small grin slipped onto Dave’s face. He fought it away and dropped his gaze.<br/><br/>“Your brother bailed you out, by the way.”<br/><br/>“Lovely,” Klaus replied with painted delight. “The moon man, the drama queen, or the dead one?”<br/><br/>Dave scoffed. “Take a guess. Second worst offender of the Hargreeves family.” He backed away. “Someone will be coming to bring you out in a minute.”<br/><br/>“So,” Klaus sighed. “Sounds like I won’t be seeing you for a while.”<br/><br/>“Yeah.” Dave straightened. Cleared his throat. <br/><br/>He turned for the door. Before reaching for the handle, he looked back to Klaus.<br/><br/>“I know. The spirits. But you can’t keep this up. Do yourself a favor and try again. Rehab, religion, yoga, whatever was working before. Just try to get yourself clean.”<br/><br/>Klaus gave him a nod that promised nothing.<br/><br/>“I’ll miss you, Sheriff,” He said instead. “It’s gonna be rough out in these parts without you.”<br/><br/>This was a new one. “'<em>Sheriff?’</em>”<br/><br/>Klaus just smiled. Dave looked at him. For a while.<br/><br/>He walked back over to the cell and reached into his own collar. Klaus quietly watched him remove one of the two chains around his neck and pull it out from under his shirt. The pendant was familiar; It was a silver, flat, minimalist representation of a tiger on the prowl.<br/><br/>Dave gestured for Klaus to come close and snaked his arms through the bars in such a way that allowed him to close the chain around Klaus’s neck. The pendant jingled slightly as it fell against his other necklaces.<br/><br/>He pulled one hand back out. He placed the other one against Klaus’s cheek. “Take care of yourself, Klaus.”<br/><br/>“Bye, Dave,” he said.<br/><br/>He took Dave’s hand and placed a gentle kiss in his palm.<br/><br/>Then, he let him go. Dave walked out without another word.</p><p>
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</p><p>The closer Dave followed the mystery of the Masked Arsonists, the more puzzling it became.<br/><br/>First it was the gunshots at Griddy’s. The dastardly duo wasn’t there, but the waitress was able to recall a crucial piece of information for the squad - the shape of a young boy’s wrist tattoo.<br/><br/>The dots began to connect when the boy in question, accompanied by a woman in black and white, faced off against the pair in a closed department store. And did quite a pretty penny in property damage.<br/><br/>Beeman went ahead and contacted Diego, who reported that a “little” brother of his had recently gone missing.<br/><br/>The nature of this conflict was a total mystery, but it was clear that this time-displaced Academy Kid and his civilian accomplice were up to something, and on the run from these masked lunatics.<br/><br/>And then, Meritech offices went up in flames. A stretch of black rubber in the shape of a dog ear stood out on the evidence table. It still had to be sent to the lab for analysis, but there was a pretty popular prediction as to what it implied.<br/><br/>And then, there was the greeting written in white ash on the windshield of a truck, presumably for Little Number Five.<br/><br/><em>Your brother says hi.<br/><br/></em>And a clue that led back to an infamously shady motel.<br/><br/>He tried not to overthink it. He did. He tried to stay calm, to weigh all the possibilities, to follow proper procedure. But he couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that the message meant what he thought it did, and that it was more than just a bluff.</p><p>
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</p><p>“And I mean, what kind of names are Hazel and Cha-Cha, anyway?”<br/><br/>Klaus groaned against the duct tape as Ben lounged on the bed behind him. He kept his eyes to the window.<br/><br/>“There’s something more to this, I’m telling you,” Ben continued. “I mean, that one guy got run over in, what, summer of ‘85?”<br/><br/>Klaus made another sound approximating a string of obscene insults.<br/><br/>“Hey, I’m just trying to figure out what we’re actually dealing with. No one’s walked by here in ages. Pretty sure this motel is a ghost town. I mean, not like…”<br/><br/>A silhouette suddenly passed the window. Klaus shouted.<br/><br/>“Oh, shit.” Ben sat straight up.<br/><br/>All Klaus could think to do was yell. He yelled and hoped it would be enough to cut through the wall.<br/><br/>He glanced at the desk in front of him. <em> God</em>. Okay.<br/><br/>He squeezed his eyes shut and slammed his head on the desk, again and again, as loudly as he could. He heard Ben hiss in secondhand pain behind him.<br/><br/>Just when he felt nearly concussed, he pulled himself up and took a breath. His world was out of focus and spinning even worse than it was before.<br/><br/>He was probably hallucinating the rattle of keys behind the door. He had to be. Right? There was no way that worked. Was there? Nothing seemed to make much sense anymore.<br/><br/>The lock turned and the door swung open. Klaus’s eyes adjusted to the sudden stream of sunlight and his heart stopped.<br/><br/>“Holy shit,” Dave whispered, frozen in shock as he took in the bloodied body in front of him.<br/><br/>Klaus almost expected some bitterness, some anger, some kind of God-Dammit-Klaus roughness. He got none. Dave sank to one knee and immediately got to work on Klaus’s restraints. The fright hadn’t quite left his face yet, but he played it as calmingly as he could.<br/><br/>“Hey, hey, hey,” he murmured, trying to keep eye contact as he drew a knife. He quickly sliced one of Klaus’s wrists free and ran a comforting hand down his arm. “It’s okay. It’s all okay.”<br/><br/>Klaus melted right into the touch. It was only then that he noticed how badly he’d been shaking for the past hour. He whined, struggling to normalize his breathing.<br/><br/>“It’s okay,” Dave just kept saying. “You’re okay.”<br/><br/>Dave was cutting the second restraint when Klaus thought clearly enough to warn him about Hazel. He mumbled something and nodded his head towards the bathroom door.<br/><br/>“Yeah? Alright,” Dave affirmed. He picked up Klaus’s second hand, blistered red from the restraint, and pressed a kiss onto its back.<br/><br/>“It’s okay,” he said, for possibly the forty-seventh time. “Now go.”<br/><br/>Just as Klaus was about to stumble for the exit, the bathroom door opened. In a panic, he dropped to the ground behind the bed, dragging his coat with him.<br/><br/>“Freeze!” Dave commanded. He stepped forward and drew his gun. “Police!”<br/><br/>“The vent’s loose,” Ben said, now crouched on the ground. “Go, go, go.”<br/><br/>Klaus yanked at the grate with fingers still quaking. Once. Twice.<br/><br/>“Hands where I can see them,” Dave barked. Klaus snuck a glance up and saw Hazel had only partially emerged. He wondered if Dave actually felt as sure and brave as he sounded.<br/><br/>“Klaus!” Ben prodded.<br/><br/>The third tug on the grate pulled it loose. The size would be fine, if it weren’t for the briefcase stuck inside. He gripped the handle, pulled it out, and let it drop onto the floor.<br/><br/>He turned for one last look.</p><p>
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  <b>Bang. </b>
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</p><p>Dave went limp entirely at once; hanging in the air for a second that felt like a minute, then crashing to his knees, then collapsing entirely.<br/><br/>Crumpled like a newspaper. Fallen like a tree. Just like anything else on earth. Destroyed so simply.<br/><br/>Klaus called out his name. Only a muffled sob came out. </p><p> </p><p><em> Dave</em>.</p><p> </p><p>He tried again. And again. </p><p> </p><p><em> DAVE</em>.</p><p> </p><p>He couldn’t have been destroyed so quietly. </p><p> </p><p>Right?</p><p> </p><p>“Shit,” he heard Cha Cha spit. “The junkie.”<br/><br/>“You need to get out of here <em> now </em>,” Ben urged.<br/><br/>Klaus shut off his brain as best he could and crammed himself into the air duct. He dropped to his elbows and pulled himself through, pulse pounding, chest bleeding, skin burning.<br/><br/>There should’ve been no way he could’ve gotten away with it, but he thought he heard the grate click closed behind him.<br/><br/>Panting, he peeled a corner of the duct tape off of his lips. “Ben…?”<br/><br/>“Just keep moving,” Ben answered shakily. “Just… move.”<br/><br/>Klaus kept moving.</p><p>
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  <b>…</b>
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</p><p>When he finally emerged, he threw on his coat and ran out onto the street. Evening had dyed the world orange and pink. He kept going, sprinting down block after block, until his body began to give out underneath him. He stumbled and steadied himself by a concrete fountain.<br/><br/>The street was nearly empty. The silence consumed him as he squinted up at the rosy sky.<br/><br/><br/><br/>It had all happened so fast.</p><p>
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  <em> Bang. </em>
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</p><p>He closed a hand around the silver pendant he wore. He tugged at it and let the chain dig into the back of his neck. </p><p> </p><p>He couldn’t have been destroyed so quietly. In a manner so swift, so sterile, so unextraordinary, while the world around him slept.</p><p>
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</p><p>Right?</p><p>
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</p><p>Right?</p><p>
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</p><p>Right?</p><p>
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</p><p>Klaus imploded on that street. Swearing. Shouting. Kicking the shit out of a trash can.<br/><br/>Hot tears fell down his face. His words turned incoherent. He screamed.<br/><br/>When he’d gotten as angry at the world as he thought he possibly could, he crumbled onto the sidewalk. It all just kept coming in wave after wave, each less sensical than the last.<br/><br/>When he dragged himself back to the Academy, the plan was to drink until he forgot those assassin’s stupid names.<br/><br/>In the minutes before he passed out, he wasn’t entirely sure of his own.</p><p>
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  <b>...</b>
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</p><p>Klaus woke up on the couch and saw Diego standing over him. The morning light through the windows stung his eyes.<br/><br/>“Get up.”<br/><br/>“Oh, hi, Diego.” Klaus mumbled and began to roll over. Diego grabbed him roughly by the shoulder.<br/><br/>“<em>Get</em>. <em> Up</em>.”<br/><br/>He held his hands up in defeat and started to rise.<br/><br/>“Okay, okay, I’m getting up.” As he stood, his necklace jingled and fell down his chest.<br/><br/>Diego caught a look at it. “Oh, God.”<br/><br/>“What?” Klaus leaned on the arm of the couch for support. “What seems to be the problem?”<br/><br/>“Where the hell were you last night?” Diego asked.<br/><br/>Huh. Where the hell <em> was </em>he last night?<br/><br/>It was slowly coming back to him.<br/><br/><br/>The motel. </p><p> </p><p>The masks. </p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>Bang. </em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>The blood. </p><p> </p><p>The crawling.</p><p> </p><p>But that was too much to process right now. Klaus squeezed his eyes shut as another wave of pain crashed over his skull.<br/><br/>“Well, I was kidnapped and tortured for information about my family, if you must know,” he managed.<br/><br/>“This isn’t a time for jokes, Klaus.” Diego stabbed a finger at his chest. “Someone died.”<br/><br/>“Oh, in that little motel on Calhoun?”<br/><br/>Diego faltered.<br/><br/>“Woah. Wait. How…”<br/><br/>“Look, bro, I’ve had a pretty messed-up twenty four hours, and I’d appreciate it if you could cut to the chase.”<br/><br/>Diego refocused. “I got this buddy Beeman in the police department. And I…I’m not supposed to be telling you any of this,  b-- b-- but... ”<br/><br/>Great. Diego’s stutter was starting to kick in. That was a terrific omen for the news to come.<br/><br/>“...They said you were near there last night,” He managed. “The motel. C-caught you on a surveillance camera someplace. And now they’re looking at you for his murder. Officer Katz.”<br/><br/>Officer Katz.<br/><br/>Dave.<br/><br/>Murder.<br/><br/>Klaus felt like he was going to vomit. He gripped harder on the couch.<br/><br/>“Excuse me?” He choked out. “How could they suspect <em> me? </em> I was the one taped up in a chair in that closet for hours!”<br/><br/>“I didn’t hear that. They didn’t hear that. All they know is that your prints are on the scene. Not to mention, you got a certain <em> history </em>.”<br/><br/>“<em>History </em>,” Klaus snorted. He picked up the bottle of vodka on the floor to see what was left. Diego snatched it out of his hand. He protested. “Heyyy…”<br/><br/>“A history of this shit right here,” Diego asserted. “Impulsiveness. Instability. Borderline-sociopathic tendencies.”<br/><br/>“But not <em> homicide!”<br/><br/></em>“Well—” Diego stopped himself. Tried again. “They’d also made note of some kind of… <em> contentious relationship </em>between you and Katz.”<br/><br/>Klaus was running out of comebacks. It was all becoming real. Another pang of pain hit the back of his head.<br/><br/>“Okay,” he said weakly. “That’s it?”<br/><br/>Diego eyed the necklace on his chest. “Yeah, one other thing,” he added. “They shared the pictures with his family. Apparently, his sister hasn’t seen him without his pendant on since college.”<br/><br/>Klaus’s hand crept up to the necklace without his thinking about it. He ran a thumb over the ridges of the front.<br/><br/>“Shit.” It came out as a whisper.<br/><br/>A few beats of silence passed as Diego just looked into Klaus’s eyes. Klaus still wasn’t quite sober enough to read his expression, but he could tell it wasn’t anything good.<br/><br/>After an eternity, he spoke. “Klaus, you didn't actually…?”<br/><br/>Mercifully, he didn’t finish the sentence. The question still stood.<br/><br/>“No,” Klaus answered. “No. No. No. I didn’t. You gotta believe me. There was this man and woman, Hazel and Cha Cha, and they wanted to know about Five. And this whole end-of-times thing? They had these rubber nightmare masks, and they were going on and on about--”<br/><br/>“Alright,” Diego dismissed.<br/><br/>“I’m serious!” Klaus insisted.<br/><br/>“No, I know you are,” Diego assured him. “We found Five. He and Delores gave us the low-down this morning.”<br/><br/>“Delores?”<br/><br/>“Long story.” He waved the question away. “This just means all three of you were telling the truth. As ridiculous as it sounded.”<br/><br/>Oh. It was actually that easy.<br/><br/>And it was actually all <em>true.<br/><br/></em>Diego’s expression seemed to turn sympathetic. It was honestly a strange look for him.<br/><br/>“You should get cleaned up,” he said. “We’ll get this all figured out after, alright?”<br/><br/>Klaus nodded, rendered mute, scared of what might come out if he chose to open his big stupid mouth again.<br/><br/>Suddenly, Diego hugged him. It was abrupt and secure and understanding and it was clear they weren't going to talk about it.<br/><br/>When he stopped being completely stunned, Klaus hugged him back. Shit. He felt like falling apart all over again. His focus was ripped from the pain in his head to the ache in his chest.<br/><br/><br/>He squeezed his brother a little tighter instead of speaking.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I loved him. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Diego gave him a gentle pat on his back instead of replying.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I know.</em>
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